


A Small Measure

by SecondSilk



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: femgenficathon, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-04
Updated: 2010-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilk/pseuds/SecondSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Traditions survive wars. So do families.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Measure

**Author's Note:**

> For my Femgenficathon prompt: "You can stand tall without standing on someone. You can be a victor without having victims." Harriet Woods.
> 
> Beta-ed by TheLastGoodName and the_fibber

Guinevere Prewett sat still and upright. Her feet were placed squarely on the cool wooden floor. Her hat was pinned to her hair, the tip pointing directly up to the ceiling and her fists clenched a handkerchief so tightly her knuckles were white and her fingers were losing circulation. Her right thumb brushed the childishly embroidered flowers on the corner over and over. She was not listening to Albus Dumbledore.

"We have gathered in these dark times to say a final farewell to Gideon and Fabian Prewett. They were killed because they were fighting for those less fortunate than themselves. They died defending…."

Molly, sitting not nearly as still or upright as her mother, reached to squeeze her mother's hand. Guinevere started at the touch, but she slowly untangled her fingers from the first mothers' day gift her boys had sent her from school and wrapped them around her daughter's hand. Guinevere felt Molly's pulse, strong and regular, as a base beat to the speeches about how troublesome the boys had been at school. She felt she might smiled at some of the stories, remembering the long-winded excuses they had brought home with them at the end of term the make up for Filius's brief reports of what they'd done.

Molly's thumb now brushed gently over the pale, worn skin of her mother's hand. She was talking to herself, saying, "It's okay, it's going to be okay," again and again. Guinevere did not have the strength to shake her head.

Behind them, Percy began to ask his father questions. Molly turned around and hushed him sternly; forgetting that he was still just five years old. Guinevere found a mint in her pocket and gave it to him to sooth the sudden tears.

*

Guinevere sat still and upright in a large, green chair in the good corner of her drawing room and visitors came to her. None of them had very much to say; the only words they could muster were "I am sorry," and "I remember," and, "I cannot image what you must be feeling." Guinevere almost wanted to smile again; she did not feel anything at all. The edges of her grief were smooth, cool, soothing.

She nodded politely when Dumbledore said that he was proud of her boys. When Minerva said, "It gets easier," in her quiet, insistent way, Guinevere believed her. But she could not reply except to close her eyes. Minerva squeezed her shoulder briefly, then sat beside her in silence.

Molly mingled among their guests. Parents were not supposed to attend their children's funerals, and people preferred to share their stories of Fabian and Gideon away from Mrs Prewett.

"Fabian was Head Boy the year I started school," Alice Longbottom said, balancing her four month old son on her hip. "Gideon teased him something dreadful about it."

James Potter, holding an equally small boy, nodded, smiling at his own memories.

"We found a secret passage once—behind a tapestry on the second floor," he said. "The two of them had left a message there, proclaiming their rule breaking brilliance to 'all who might follow after them.'"

"You and Sirius did pretty well in the troublemaker stakes," Alice said.

James bowed. "Thank you, kind lady. I do believe their nephews are set upon the same path."

He nodded to the red haired toddlers who were near the food laden buffet table. George, judging by large G on the back of his overalls, was crouched on his hands and knees while Fred, using the tablecloth for stability, climbed on to his back. Molly marched over to them and handed them both a biscuit on the condition that they sat quietly with their grandmother.

They sat, one on either side of her, munching quietly with they heads against her knee. She gently stroked their hair.

*

When the guests were finally gone and Arthur had taken the boys home, Guinevere pushed herself from her chair and went to fill the kettle with water.

"I'll do that, mum," Molly protested. Guinevere waved her away.

"I am perfectly capable," she said, but her hands shook as she cast the charm to heat the water and spooned leaves into the pot.

Molly sat, hands clenched to stop herself from interfering as Guinevere set the cups on the saucers and disappeared back into the drawing room to retrieve the milk jug. Molly remembered her eleventh birthday, three days before Gideon and Fabian had returned from their third year of school, and the first time she had been served tea in the good china.

"You're a young lady now, Miss Molly, old enough to go to school," Guinevere had said. "That's a very fine thing to be."

She had smiled as she said it, her blues eyes bright and her mouth turned up at the edges just a hint. Molly had nodded, mimicking her mother's upright posture and delicate manners.

Molly lost the memory as she watched Guinevere set the milk on the table, her shoulders slumping. Guinevere sat, but motioned Molly to pour. Grandmother Prewett was the only person who ever poured tea besides Guinevere herself, and Molly's hands shook as she picked up the pot.

They sat silently as their tea cooled enough to drink. Once Guinevere had swallowed her first mouthful of tea she said,

"Arthur's coming up for a promotion. Ronald is already nine months old. You could try for another child."

Molly remembered how much Gideon and Fabian had teased her for pretending to be grown up the summer before they had all left for Hogwarts together for the first time. She nodded.

*

Molly and Ginny walked carefully up Grandma Prewett's old front steps, and through the house to the drawing room. The late summer sun streaming through the window dispelled most of the natural darkness of the room. Guinevere was dozing in her green velvet chair. She started awake when Ginny cried out "Grandma!"

"Ginevra, my joy. Happy Birthday."

Ginny ran across the room and pulled up just outside of Guinevere's reach.

"Turn around," Guinevere commanded.

Ginny turned very carefully on the spot, holding herself tall and straight like her mother had taught her to.

"That looks like my granddaughter," Gunievere said, her smile making her voice light. "I think that you should sit beside me."  
Ginny grinned. Guinevere moved over and Ginny squeezed into the narrow space left between Guinevere's bony hip and the arm of the chair.

Guinevere smiled at Molly over Ginny's head. Molly smiled back and left to make tea. She was more careful with her mother's tea things than she ever was with hers. But the time she had found a tray, arranged the cups and saucers and the eccles cakes Guinevere had made for Ginny and taken it all back to the drawing room, Guinevere and Ginny were deep in a discussion about Puffskeins and Harry Potter.

Molly placed the tray on the side table between Guinevere's chair and the couch. Ginny climbed out from under her grandmother's arm and sat beside Molly on the couch. Guinevere poured the tea. When she handed Ginny the delicately painted china, Ginny's face lit up. She looked at Molly for permission and Molly could not help grinning.

"You're a young lady now, Miss Ginny," she said.

Guinevere regarded them both solemnly over her teacup. Her shoulders were hunched now, but she sat as upright as she could.

"That's a very fine thing to be," she said.

Ginny sipped her tea and smiled.


End file.
